


emily's a gay mess and bo's drunk off her ass

by viscrael



Category: Original Work, Othello - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lesbian Character, Underage Drinking, also known as: the lesbian othello project im workin on w/ a friend, othello but lesbian and also high school.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: “Good. Sometimes I think you don’t trust me with it. Not as much as Danni, though.”Emily opens her mouth to say something, but at Danni’s name, she stops. “What?”“Hm?”“What’s that you said about—Danni thinks I don’t trust her?”“Oh, yeah,” Bo says, shrugging lazily as if uninterested. “She’s told me she doesn’t get why you don’t ever teelllll her about you and Isaac’s relaaaationship.”“And how come Danni hasn’t ever told me about this?”“Dunno.” She shrugs another time. “’S never come up. Or maybe she told me that to keep it a secret. Oops. Sorry, Danni.”





	emily's a gay mess and bo's drunk off her ass

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this to force myself to write bc. my hands hate me. and i havent written in a month bc im recovering from surgery. 
> 
> anyway this is for the [lesbian othello](http://viscrael.tumblr.com/tagged/lesbian-othello) project im working on aka high school othello but told from emilia's pov and lesbian. all u need 2 know is that emilys being blackmailed into a pretend relationship with this guy isaac (iago). also shes not out to any1 but shes gay and in love w/ danni
> 
> its 3 am and i wrote this in like 30 min w/ NO proofreading here u go enjoy my typos

“Hey, bitch, whatchya up to?”

Bo slings her arm over Emily’s shoulder, just barely avoiding spilling the contents of her cup, held in her free hand, all over the floor. She takes a large gulp from the plastic red container. Emily rolls her eyes, but it’s a little fonder than she wants to admit.

“Standing around,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are _you_ up to?”

“Getting turnt.” Bo tilts the drink towards Emily. “Wanna join?”

“Can’t. Designated driver.”

“Aww, what! For _whoooooo_?” she whines, leaning heavily on her friend. She always does this at parties—comes over to bother Emily every now and then after she’s started drinking. “You _knoooow_ I’m just goin’ home with _Chaaaase_.”

“And how’s Chase gonna get home if he’s drinking, too?” Emily asks, shaking her head. She still doesn’t push Bo away, however. The presence isn’t entirely unwanted, after all. Emily’s spent the majority of the night so far standing around and pretending to respond to texts on her phone.

“Dunno.” Bo thinks about it for a long moment, squeezing her face up pensively. Her makeup hasn’t stayed looking good all night—save her very bright pink lipstick, which is all over the rim of her drink and probably Chase’s cheeks too. Other than that, though, she looks just as perky as she had when she walked in, short dark hair still in two symmetrical buns on top of her head, eyeliner just as sharp. Emily wonders how she does it—staying so impeccably fashionable all the time must be hard work. She can’t imagine putting that much effort into her own appearance. Even for tonight’s football game and after party, she’d only given a second of thought before throwing a flannel jacket over her tank top and jeans.

Bo muses, “Maybe we’ll just sleepover here. Altogether, like a big ole slumber party. You remember slumber parties? Kids do those. Man, we haven’t had one of those in a long time.” She blinks, pauses, and then gasps, suddenly and loudly, _very_ close to Emily’s ear. “EM! Do you wanna have a slumber party with me and Danni?!”

Emily snorts. “Sure.”

“Yes!”

“But not tonight.”

Bo deflates just as quickly as she’d gotten excited. “Whaaat? Why not? Danni’s here, she can get in on it—and we’re all here now anyway, it’ll be so easy! No planning or waiting at all!”

“Because we’re at AJ’s house?” Emily says, finally pushing Bo off of her, although gently so as not to make her fall. She teeters for a moment but manages to stand on her own without leaning so much on Emily. “We weren’t invited to sleep over.”

“We were invited to get drunk and stuff,” Bo protests. “And besides, _Danni_ ’s gonna be sleepin’ over already, if you know what I mean.” She punctuates her sentence by wiggling her well-plucked eyebrows, giggling when Emily shoves her away to get her to stop.

Even with Bo joking about it, Emily can’t keep the comment from making her tense up. Bo would notice any other time, but thankfully, her lack of sobriety impairs her from picking up on her friend’s subtler body language. Thank God.

“Whatever,” Emily says, feeling all the sudden much less interested in having Bo over here. “Let’s not talk about it.”

“About the slumber party? But I thought you said we could have one.”

“No, about—ugh, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

Someone pushes past the two of them, just barely knocking into Bo on their way. It pushes Bo into Emily, and Emily takes a step back further so she’s pressed against the wall. At the beginning of the night, she’d claimed this spot in the back against the wall in hopes that it would keep people from messing with her, but she guesses she can’t even have that.

Whatever.

Bo drops the subject, too tipsy to focus on one thing for too long; she’s always a little absentminded, but especially so when drunk. She rests a manicured hand on Emily’s upper arm and opens her mouth to say something, but stops, distracted. “Hey.” She squeezes.

Emily pulls her arm back, frowning. “What’d you do that for?”

“No, no, wow, you’re way strong, come back.” She puts her hand again on Emily’s arm, squeezing as if to feel the muscle. “Hey, hey. Em. Flex.”

“Oh my God.” But she does it anyway.

Bo gasps. “When did you get ripped!”

“Bo—”

“Hey, do you think you could beat Chase in a—a—what’re those things called where you put your hands on a table and try to slam ‘em first? That thing?”

“Arm wrestling?”

“That! Do you think you could beat Chase in one of those contest? I beat you could. He’s not as fit as he claims he is.” She lets go of Emily’s arm and downs the rest of her cup swiftly. “I made fun of him for it once and he got _suuuuper_ pissed at me about it. Like, _sooooo_ upset. It was a _very_ sensitive topic for him.”

“I remember. You told me this story already.”

“He wouldn’t forgive me ‘til I gave him a blowjob.”

Emily winces. “Yes, Bo, I remember you telling me that part too.”

“Awww, come ooon, Em, it’s just _sex_ ,” Bo slurs. “Sex sex sex. Hey, you’re always weird when we talk about sex. Don’t you ‘n Isaac ever do anything? Why don’t you ever tell me about it? You never talked about it ever. Hey, Em, you’d tell me if you guys had done stuff, right? You wouldn’t keep that from me?”

The conversation is very quickly getting out of hand. Emily, panicking, tries to think of a way to get Bo to let the topic drop, but what she settles on instead is a reassuring, “Of course I would.”

“Good. Sometimes I think you don’t trust me with it. Not as much as Danni, though.”

Emily opens her mouth to say something—get Bo off the topic as quickly as possible—but at Danni’s name, she stops. “What?”

“Hm?”

“What’s that you said about—Danni thinks I don’t trust her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bo says, shrugging lazily as if uninterested. “She’s told me she doesn’t get why you don’t ever teelllll her about you and Isaac’s rel _aaaa_ tionship.”

“And how come Danni hasn’t ever told me about this?”

“Dunno.” She shrugs another time. “’S never come up. Or maybe she told me that to keep it a secret. Oops. Sorry, Danni.”

Jesus Christ. Emily uncrosses her arms, suddenly jittery, and wipes her sweaty palms on her thighs. This party was already more than subpar, and she was _already_ about two air-horn blasts away from just leaving, but this is…upsetting in a different way.

It’s too loud suddenly. Her throat is dry.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she says, and pushes past Bo before her friend can get in any protests.

Emily maneuvers her way through the crowd of peers—most drunk, some dancing, all in her way—until she finds the one downstairs bathroom in AJ’s house. His house is more like a mansion, but of course there’s only one working bathroom that isn’t connected to a bedroom. In theory, Emily _could_ chance one of those—it’d definitely be further away from the obnoxious music—but the likelihood of walking in on some gangly couple going at it would increase by a lot.

So she doesn’t bother, instead pushing past the guy standing directly in front of the bathroom door with a mumbled _excuse me._ She locks the door behind her.

The music is quieter in here, but not by much. She can feel it thump through the room, the bass boosted, the beat drumming under her feet even as she stands in front of the mirror, palms against the cool ceramic sides of the sink.

Danni doesn’t think Emily trusts her.

Because of _course_ there were gonna be other complications with the whole Isaac situation. Emily hasn’t thought about it in a long time—after all, Isaac was pretty clear on what Emily would have to do to keep the appearances of a relationship up. They’d hang out in public when it was convenient, maybe kiss or use pet names every now and then if necessary—only with an audience, Emily was sure of that—and go on a few “dates” that were really secessions of Isaac grilling Emily over blackmail while they sat in his shitty, shitty car.

But then, of course—the issue of sex.

They don’t do anything; Emily fucking _hates_ the guy. She doesn’t have any sex stories to _trust_ Danni and Bo with. But to them, it just looks like she’s a prude, who won’t sleep with her boyfriend even after dating for a year.

God. Even when she’s doing her best to be seen as the same as everyone else, there’s still something about her that outs her. Of fucking course.

“Maybe it’s just me,” she mumbles to the mirror, barely audible over the music outside. “I’m so abnormal it bleeds into everything.”

But—whatever, she tells herself. _Just one more year_. A deep breath. _Just one more year and then you’ll be in college and away from all these assholes and you can be out and proud and actually start dating._

Just one more year. She could do that. She _could_.

Or, at least, she’d pretend she could.


End file.
